Not For Boys

During the physical activity section of our day yesterday, I ran very hard with great skillfulness and speed along our route with many hills to prove to ill.Gates and Bassnectar how strong and fast and awesome I am. I left everyone smoothly in the dust but managed also to fairly seriously fuck up the muscles in my calves. Now I’m hobbling around the house like a 90 year old cripple feeling quietly sorry for myself. Moral of the story: Ladies. Don’t show off. Especially not for boys.


I Need You to be Happy


“Okay so he’s always late, often ignores you, is sometimes mean to you, doesn’t explain himself, doesn’t put the seat down, doesn’t take his shoes off when he enters your home and his towels don’t at all smell good. My only suggestion is that you flee.”

“But I really like him.”

“Too bad.”

“What if I love him?”

“You don’t.”

“But what if I do?”

“You don’t.”

“He texted me a picture of his cock.”

“So how was it.”


“You won’t think it’s so gorgeous when you’re falling into the toilet the next time you pee. Or when you think about the towels he uses when it’s penis cleaning time. If his daily schedule includes such a delicately particular designated time.”

“Why are you being so hard. Don’t you like him?”

“I don’t know him so I can’t say.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Look babe. Either listen to me or don’t. Just don’t come running to me later drenched in tears only to tell me I was right. I don’ t need to be right, I need you to be happy. And I need not to have to repeat myself with every next Meager Possibility Man. Not that I mind even though I kinda do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”